


The Road Goes On

by neville_zabini



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Arranged Marriage, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 05:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21489055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neville_zabini/pseuds/neville_zabini
Summary: Bilbo joins Thorin and his Company on their quest to retake Erebor. As the journey continues, his heart begins to yearn for the dwarf prince he was beginning to call a friend. However Thorin is not only rude in a way that only a dwarf and a prince can be, he is also promised to another.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. An Unexpected Treasure

Three loud knocks at the front door sounded the arrival of the final member of the party. A tense silence settled across the room of dwarves as they all looked expectantly to Bilbo, their reluctant host. The Hobbit let out an exasperated breath and stepped purposefully out of the parlour and into the hallway, his hands clenched at his sides in tight fists. The impromptu gathering was testing even the courtesy of a hobbit.

He puffed out his chest and opened the door to reveal the deep-set brooding eyes, and heavy brow of Thorin Oakenshield. Furs rested on thickset shoulders and a long sword and well-worn battle axe hung from a brown leather belt. Iron gauntlets wrapped around dense warrior forearms and hefty dwarven boots encased the legs of a powerful being that Bilbo had never quite seen the likes of before in the Shire. His face was stern and the deep lines told of a history of trials and tribulations. However, the eyes that were watching the hobbit were not weary, they were a piercing blue and held a burning fire of determination that sent a shiver down the spine of the hobbit.

“Gandalf, I thought you said this place would be easy to find” Thorin spoke quietly but the deep timbre of his voice travelled easily to the wizard in the next room. 

Bilbo startled upon realising he had been staring rather too long and rather rudely at the formidable figure on his doorstep. The dwarf lifted a thick eyebrow in what could have been amusement but looked rather more like mockery before stepping his heavy boots over the threshold of the green rounded door. Bilbo shook himself and let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding, feet still glued to the spot as Thorin passed him. He eventually had the good sense to reach for the open door and bolt it shut against the cold night air.

Thorin’s scowl deepened as he passed into the parlour where the rest of the dwarven company was watching with interest. Bilbo finally regained some of his senses and followed behind indignantly, watching with a light frown as the dwarf greeted his kinsmen.

“So, this is the Hobbit” the air of regal distain in his voice did nothing to sooth Bilbo’s frazzled nerves as he found he could do nothing but open and close his mouth at the final intrusion on his previously pleasant evening.

He may be a prince, Bilbo thought, his furry feet tapping sharply and irritably against the wooden floorboards, but he has no more right than the rest of them to come storming in unannounced at this time of night.

Thorin turned back to him and any idea of expressing his disquiet was quashed.

“Tell me Mr. Baggins, have you much experience fighting?”

The scorn in his tone was clear and Bilbo felt his frustration at this particular dwarf grow to almost breaking point.

For he was a hobbit and had never left the shire, let alone learnt how to handle a weapon or fight in a battle. Respectable hobbits didn’t wield axes, and a competitive game of conkers was about as violent as they ever got. 

He felt out of his depth, put on the spot and frankly, quite angry. He didn’t like the dwarf leader; he didn’t like the idea of this adventure and it really was getting to past his bedtime. 

This would not do.

He opened his mouth to say as much but neither the dwarves, nor the wizard, were paying any attention to him anymore, turning instead to discuss their quest and the trials they were to face, with, or without their supposed burglar.

Bilbo settled on a barrel in the pantry, anxiously tapping his feet against the flagstones, ill at ease but not able to keep his attention away from, nor interrupt, the conversation in his parlour.

His eyes fixated on Thorin, unable to tear his gaze from the imposing figure that the dwarf made in the candlelight. His dark hair had two thick braids either side of his face and his beard was thick but trimmed neatly to his formidable jawline. 

Bilbo wondered what the braids meant. He knew from previous acquaintance with dwarf tradesmen in Bree that dwarven braids were of enormous significance, used to honour battle success, coming of age and romantic intentions. Usually they were terribly intricate affairs with a dwarf taking pride in his craftmanship must like those on the dwarf Dori, but the braids he could see on the prince were simple affairs, geared more towards practicality than fashion.

They were fascinating and Bilbo found that he yearned to touch them, learn them, and feel the thick hair beneath his soft Hobbit hands – purely for academic reasons of course. When he came to his senses and realised the direction of his thoughts, his fingers twitched, and he scrunched his hands into tight fists in his lap. This would not do at all.

All thirteen of the dwarves in the room turned to look at him expectantly and Bilbo froze, his mind trying to come to his rescue to cover his temporary loss of reality and supply him with the context of the conversation. 

“Will you join us on this quest, Master Burglar” asked Balin, his kind face and white bushy beard peering from where he was sat with the rest of the company at the parlour table. 

Bilbo curiously found himself torn and genuinely wanting to nod his head and join this intrepid crew in restoring their birth right. Both because it was the right thing to do and because there was a part of him, somewhere deep down, that craved adventure.

The whole idea was madness, but the Hobbit couldn’t help the thrum of excitement that filled his insides at the idea of leaving Hobbiton and seeing the wider world with these dwarves. The danger terrified him, and he felt completely and utterly unprepared to face the trials ahead. But the part of him that was Took was itching to get out, to act without thinking and to do something scandalous and reckless.

Bilbo passed his eyes over the dwarves sat at his table. Their faces, ragged and worn but fundamentally kind, were eager and hoping. However, when his gaze reached Thorin, his courage faltered. The large dwarf was fixing him a look that could only be interpreted as distain.

Bilbo averted his eyes and hurriedly cleared his throat.

“Oh, I think not” he said softly, “I will be little use to you in fighting nor burgling and I would really just be a burden. Besides, who would water my roses.” He could feel his cheeks getting rosy and a cool sweat beginning in his palms.

While some of the dwarves nodded their heads in agreement or had very little reaction at all, Gandalf looked at him in obvious disappointment.

Bilbo looked quickly away and so missed the withering look that Gandalf then fixed on the leader of their company. Thorin was never one to look guilty of anything but his face did morph back into its unreadable mask of cool indifference. 

*****  
As night fell and the dwarves settled down to rest on their last night under shelter, Bilbo found himself tossing and turning in his soft, comfy, patchwork quilted hobbit bed.

The idea of never seeing the company of dwarves again, including their less than pleasant leader, filled him with a deep dissatisfaction of a kind he had never felt before. He had no desire to leave his comfortable life in the Shire and yet he found that he had a yearning to join this quest, Hobbit etiquette be damned. Something inside him was trying to tell him that helping this company of dwarves might be the right thing to do.

The Hobbit sighed and shuffled yet again under his quilted bedlinens. The decision has already been made and I will not risk my life for the speculations of one entitled dwarf prince.

*****

In the next room, that very dwarf prince was also unable to rest. His brow rested in one large hand as he reclined on his bedroll, his outwards appearance of calm masking the turmoil within.

Thorin was thinking of the Hobbit. Of how small and fragile he looked when amongst the dwarves and of how unsuited the mild being was to a journey of this type. What was the wizard thinking? The delicate Hobbit should be regarded as a rare treasure and treasure like that should be looked after and protected.

You could protect him whispered the voice in his head. But Thorin knew that this could never be the case. The quest was to be a dangerous one, he could not, and would not, risk his kin protecting a Hobbit who could not look after himself. And it certainly did not matter how soft his curls looked as they brushed against his cheek or how endearing his irritable pout was. 

And besides, you are promised to another. At that thought, Thorin pulsed with anger and a few of the dwarves sleeping around him stirred, as if aware of the conflict brewing in the mind of their leader. There was much work to be done, a mountain to be won and a Hobbit to stay safely in his Hobbit hole. That would be final.

The dawn began to filter through the round windows of Bilbo’s home and the dwarves woke silently, packed their bags, saddled their ponies and rode off into the morning, leaving no trace of them ever having been there.


	2. Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo joins the dwarves on their journey and explains to them hobbit marriage customs.

Bilbo hurried out past the edge of Hobbiton and over the rolling hills of the Shire as fast as his hobbit legs could carry him.

He didn’t know quite why he had felt so empty and discontent upon discovering the lack of dwarf in his living room that morning, but it had spurred him into immediate action. Not stopping to think, he raced to pull his nightshirt off and to put his respectable and most hard-wearing daytime clothes on.

On his way out the door he grabbed the long parchment contract Balin had left behind and a large travel sack with as many provisions as he could think to pack in his frantic exit.

This contract was now trailing behind him as he jumped over rivers and stiles on the shortcut to the path where the party of dwarves and wizard were likely travelling.

His cheeks were flush, and his breath was coming short when he finally caught site of them the other side of a copse of trees.

“Wait!” He shouted, waving for attention and hurrying through the trees as fast as he could.

It was Gandalf, at the rear of the party, who heard Bilbo’s cries and halted his horse, drawing the attention of the dwarves to the late arrival of their burglar.

Thorin turned from his place at the head of the party to take in the sight of the hobbit, his cheeks red from exertion, his hair a windblown mess and his deft fingers loosening the top-most of his shirt buttons. He didn’t know whether to be surprised, pleased, angry or amused for all these emotions crossed his mind as the other dwarves clapped Bilbo on the back and welcomed him to the party.

After the excitement had died down, Bilbo’s eyes finally sought his and the hobbit gave him a quizzical and searching look.

His face had settled back into its sullen and broody mask just a fraction too late, leaving Bilbo confused and feeling just a little bit put out. He wasn’t expecting Thorin to be pleased to see him as such, for the dwarven prince had made it quite clear what he thought of the idea of a hobbit burglar. But Bilbo hadn’t been expecting to see the brief flash of anguish that had appeared on the usually calm and measured face of their intrepid leader. He could not help but feel a sense of foreboding and that from that moment, nothing was ever going to be the same.

*****

That night, the company settled down in front of the campfire for their first night spent on the road. The mood was high and Bofur had brought out his flute, resulting in the dwarves singling jaunty tunes for the best part of the evening. The food had been excellent, for travelling fare at least, with Bombur cooking a chicken stew from the fresh produce that had been procured in Bree. All was well with the company and Bilbo was feeling very glad about his decision to leave his hobbit hole in the Shire.

He sat by the fire, his appetite quenched, with Fili smoking his pipe on his left and Gloin on his right, sharpening his battle axe.

“If this is what all adventures are like” he said, helping himself to another spoonful of the stew, “then I don’t know why I didn’t go on one sooner.”

Fili chuckled and gave Bilbo a well-meant slap on his back, sending a large proportion of the stew sloshing onto Gloin who grumbled loudly albeit good-heartedly.

“Very good Master Baggins,” the young blonde dwarf gave him a dashing smile, “so you don’t have good hearty stew in the Shire then?”

“Please, call me Bilbo,” replied the hobbit for ‘Master Baggins’ soundly awfully old and stuffy and here he was on a very real adventure.

“Our food is often-times good and always plentiful; you see it is the relaxed company I am beginning to enjoy”

Fili kicked his feet up onto a log, threw his head back and guffawed before calling to his brother across the campfire.

“You hear that, dear Kili. The hobbit says I am good company.”

The younger, darker dwarf sauntered over to the pair, the mischief in his eyes matching those of his older brother. Bilbo could see that the two were two fine, handsome young dwarves, Fili with the impressive braids and facial hair to match. But from their manner, Bilbo would have been surprised if they were much past their adolescence.

“That’s because he has not been blessed with any of my great wit yet brother, for it is well known that I am much better company” came Kili’s retort as he took a seat and pulled affectionately on his brother’s moustache braid.

As the repartee between the brothers turned into a light tussle, Bilbo looked across the campfire to where Thorin was sat, separate from the rest of the company and seemingly in deep thought. He had managed to converse with and get to know most of the other dwarves throughout the day, however Thorin had remained at the front of the company resolutely ignoring any attempts to draw him into conversation from the wizard or any of his kin.

His brow was furrowed as he stared into the flickering flames of the campfire, only looking up briefly, his eyes never meeting Bilbo’s as he fixed his nephews with a withering glare. The two young dwarves settled back down to trading brotherly insults as Bofur choose a quieter and more lamenting tune as his final piece for the night.

“Is he always so… like this?” Bilbo asked the two brothers, his eyes still fixed on Thorin.

It was Balin who answered from behind him.

“Thorin has had a lot on his mind lately so you will have to excuse his lack of polite conversation”

The old dwarf gave him a wise and meaningful eye and, not wanting to pry further, Bilbo nodded his head and returned to his private thoughts.

“Uncle has been this way as long as we can remember” said Fili “don’t take it to heart.”

A hush settled over the small group as Bofur finished playing. Bilbo had finally finished his third helping of supper and the fire, although still hot, was settling down to its embers.

“So, tell us about your Shire,” asked Kili, “are there any lovely lady folk?”

Fili snorted and rolled his eyes at his brother's casual audacity.

“There are a great many fair hobbit maidens, yes” replied Bilbo, willing to share the cultures of his homeland with his new acquaintances for he was just as curious about theirs, “in fact, we are all promised for marriage at birth. Not that marriage is a political thing for we are all simple folk, it is just easier that way. Much less time spent worrying and courting, leaving much more time for enjoying the finer things in life. In fact, my marriage should be coming up in a year or two now I have passed the fine age of fifty, to a lovely cousin a few times removed on my father’s side, a Sackville-Baggins I think.”

The young dwarves looked at him in shock. Their eyebrows high on their foreheads. Balin too seemed to have caught wind of the conversation and was shaking his head sadly off to one side.

“So, you don’t marry for love or for politics… you marry just because,” Kili puzzled “what about passion, and fire, and bonding and mating?”

Bilbo’s face heated up at the mention of mating for it was not something often discussed in polite hobbit company. The dwarfs, on the other hand, were clearly accustomed to such things, although the direction of the conversation seemed to have attracted the attentions of a few of the other dwarfs around the fire who grumbled in agreement at Kili’s remark.

“I’m not sure we hobbits have quite as many passionate escapades as you are used to Master Kili, and are usually most content to garden, cook scones, and when the time comes, do what we need to do to give us the joy of little hobbits. There really isn’t much more to it.” Bilbo felt a little defensive towards his hobbit culture although he did not really have any experiences either way to know how he felt about such matters.

As the dwarves continued to lament at the lack of passion in hobbit relationships and to Bilbo’s horror discuss stories of their own passionate encounters and escapades, the hobbit felt the eyes of Thorin turn towards him from across the fireplace. He looked up and was caught in a gaze that felt so strong, yet he didn’t know what was meant by it. After a few seconds, Bilbo felt he had to look away and stared down at his feet out of fear of being consumed. When he next looked up, Thorin was gone from the fire. He gave a shiver and wrapped his cloak tighter around himself for the night had suddenly become rather cold.

As Bilbo said his good-nights to his travelling companions and settled down into his bedroll, his mind was not at ease. Clearly Thorin had a problem with him but he really did not understand what he had done that had warranted such outward disdain from the dwarven leader. He wished he knew what he had done, never having upset someone quite so accidentally before. He was yet to say a word to Thorin on the journey and yet the towering dwarf could scarcely bare the sight of him.

Thorin returned to the circle of sleeping dwarves and hobbit some time later. His gaze softened as it turned upon the bundle of soft golden hobbit hair sticking out a mountain of blankets. _Sleep well little one for this may be the last time we have such luxury, _he thought as he settled to take the first watch. Rest would not come to Thorin for quite some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so two chapters in one day - it is sheer procrastination at this point.
> 
> Again, please comment if you enjoyed it or just want to point out my atrocious grammar.
> 
> Enjoy :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a work that is over 1000 long and I have no beta so please excuse any spelling/grammer/terrible characterisation issues.  
Even better, mention them in the comments so I can improve :)
> 
> Updates will have to fit around my university work but this should be fortnightly at worst (no promises tho)
> 
> Enjoy.


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